


Revellere

by Dialuci



Series: Lanternes of Light [4]
Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Family Feels, Lucifer Angst, M/M, The Sinblings Adjust to their Lives in the Devildom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:00:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23040586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dialuci/pseuds/Dialuci
Summary: Revellere:VerbConjugation: 3rd conjugationvoice: transitiveDefinitions:1.to remove (a person)2.to tear/pull away/loose/out/from/down/up3.to wrench offLucifer rubs harder at his treacherous, tired eyes. The risk of teetering off the edge into slumber is too great now--he’ll… Do something else instead. Disappointment wells up in him like bitter black bile.What a sad routine he’s developed.What a pathetic creature he’s become.As loathsome as it is, this is still better than the alternative. To sleep, to dream.
Relationships: Diavolo/Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Series: Lanternes of Light [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612912
Comments: 25
Kudos: 173





	1. 1. to remove (a person)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back again! this time with some light angst. Pleas note this fic, like all my other ones, is written in my Lanternes of Light au. Feel free to hmu if you have any questions about it, the link to my tumblr will be in the bottom notes. :)
> 
> as you can see, this is chapter 1 of 3, but don't worry! I intend to have the next couple out sooner rather than later. Hopefully.

A lifetime ago, Lucifer saw nothing when he closed his eyes beyond the backs of his eyelids. Safe in the red-black darkness, he would drift off to sleep and dream meaningless, nonsensical dreams.

Sleep was a reprieve once, a blessing. And now...

Suffice to say that these days, after everything he has seen and done, Lucifer avoids sleeping to the best of his ability.

He brushes off concern for the ever darkening circles beneath his eyes with a scoff. He is Lucifer of Pride, former Morning Star, the final Angel Sovereign. Losing a little sleep here and there means next to nothing to him. His siblings--or, Lucifer’s heart aches to admit, what is left of them--say less and less the more that he dismisses it. 

That is, when they decide to speak with him at all.

~~The occasions where they can all speak amicably without a fight have drastically diminished. Is this what Lucifer has condemned them all to? An eternity of pointless, petty squabbling?~~

They are all so… Different now. Devilhood has that effect on an angel, it would seem. 

Even Satan who was born a demon shows signs of change. Faster to anger, more free with his rage. More and more frequently has Lucifer been called on to reign his wayward youngest--no, not youngest now, King Diavolo had declared him _fourth_ \--brother back in. Once, without thinking, and relying heavily on past experience, he had sent Beelzebub to help bring Satan down from his latest temper tantrum.

Lucifer will eternally be grateful that Belphegor saw fit to call on him when he did--otherwise, they all might have very well lost yet another of their number to senseless violence.

It was a simple lapse in judgement, but it had so nearly cost them all so very dearly.

~~It seems impossible now to imagine Satan as he once was, just a young thing barely reaching Lucifer’s hip-- spitting mad at some small inconvenience or other, but calming the instant that Beelzebub wrapped him up in a tender, familiar embrace. Lucifer is not sure who was more stunned by the outcome of the errant errand, himself or Beelzebub. He certainly knows who was more hurt by it though, in the end.~~

There is a distance now, between them all. It’s shaped like their missing sister, solidified by their shared grief. ~~Made ever wider by Lucifer’s personal guilt, the secrets he’s begun to keep. Not that any of the others know--or ever will, if Lucifer has his way.~~

He knows they all resent him now for what he’s done, for the choices he made, for how he led all of them to ruin. It hurts to lose his brothers’ love and admiration like this, but he would rather they hate him and be safe than love him and be…

Well, It doesn’t bear thinking about, now.

With the war finally over, and what’s left of his family securely under his ever watchful eye in the devildom ~~(for the most part--and he has to be content with that. He _has_ to be.)~~ Lucifer had initially felt that he could relax, just an inch, just for a night.

Diavolo--Paymon, once, but no longer--had entreated him to spend the evening with him as he had almost every night since the war had concluded and peace was struck. His invitations were never unwelcome, despite how often Lucifer would deny him. If he went to lie with Diavolo -- ~~no matter how well he would sleep after. Such sweet, dreamless sleep~~ \-- he wouldn’t have the night time hours to catch up on work.

Becoming a Cardinal Sin came with a surprising amount of paperwork for all of them. Given that paperwork is a chore which Lucifer has been intimately familiar for centuries on centuries, he hadn’t thought much about taking the lion’s share of the work from his brothers. What would it matter to them if he sorted through their responsibilities and delegated from there? It’s not as if any of them were well accustomed to being responsible for anything. He’s simply doing them all a favor.

But that one night, Lucifer had made the mistake of taking Diavolo up on his offer. It always felt good to indulge in temptation, no longer fighting his very nature to preen, to be praised, to take, and take, and _take_ without guilt. Without shame. 

So he had indulged, and Mammon had taken the rare opportunity of an evening without Lucifer’s watchful gaze to guide him to play fast and loose with the peace treaty. Flaunting everything Lucifer had worked for to gamble in the human world. He hadn’t even come back with more than he’d lost, but that wasn’t even in the same realm as the point.

Had he ever been so irresponsible before? Lucifer cannot recall it being so--he had trusted Mammon implicitly back then, often leaving the second oldest in charge of their siblings for hours, if not occasionally days at a time. Mammon had been one of Michael’s better warriors--and even if Lucifer had detested Michael toward the end of his time in the Celestial Realm, he could at least recognize the quality of his education in Mammon’s strength.

Where had his reliable, good natured brother gone? When had he been replaced by a profligate spendthrift with a mouth bigger than the ego he boasted of so poorly? There had been a time when Mammon had been the only person who could make Lucifer laugh, the only one he’d felt comfortable enough to confide in. Now all Mammon seems to do is give him tension headaches that, as of late, threaten to become migraines.

After having dragged Mammon home from his escapades by his ear--back to where it was _safe_ , why did he have to go and play the fool? ~~Why couldn’t he see that if he just stayed _put_ that everything would be alright? That Lucifer would take care of him, take care of everything, if he would only _just_~~ \--the nights that Lucifer would allow himself with Diavolo became farther and fewer between.

Subsequently, that meant the nights that Lucifer spent awake at his desk grew more and more frequent, which, of course, had a favorable impact on his productivity.

Or at least he _had_ considered it favorable. Up until this very moment.

Now, as Lucifer sits at his writing desk with his inbox startlingly, _woefully_ barren, it dawns on him that not even paperwork is infinite, as impossible as the notion sounds. He stares at his pristine desk and empty hands in muted shock. An irrational part of Lucifer feels something like betrayed, but mostly, he feels--

He does not want to think about it.

...Well.

He supposes…

He could go for a walk? Evening strolls have always helped to clear his head, at the very least.

Lucifer heaves a sigh and leans back in his chair, the knots in his back protesting the sudden stretch as he starts going through the motions to drag himself up and out of the seat he’d been occupying for the past… Lucifer glances at the clock mounted on the far wall. How long _had_ he been holed up in his office for this time?

He had sat down not too long after dinner, so surely it couldn’t have gotten too terribly late?

The clock defies him, and reads a solemn four in the morning.

Lucifer groans, scrubs a hand over his eyes. He hadn’t meant to let himself work so long.

The tired pounding ache behind his eyes doesn’t lessen much with his ministrations, which means he ought to at least close his eyes and lie down in bed for the next scant few hours. If he’s going to keep up his little charade of resting, he’ll need to retire to his room regardless.

It wouldn’t do for any of his family to see him exit his office in yesterday's clothes, obviously. But the threat of sleep is enough to keep him wary. Will he be able to abstain if he lies down now? What if he does fall asleep--or, even worse, what if he _oversleeps_? He has an appearance to maintain--and a part of it is that he is expected to rise before his family. He’s supposed to be present.

Lucifer rubs harder at his treacherous, tired eyes. The risk of teetering off the edge into slumber is too great now--he’ll…. Do something else instead. Disappointment wells up in him like bitter black bile.

What a sad routine he’s developed.

~~What a pathetic creature he’s become.~~

As loathsome as it is, this is still better than the alternative. To sleep, to _dream_.

Depriving himself of proper rest is more than worth not having to watch his world fall apart, over and over again in the hellscape of his nightmares. It is more than worth not feeling the phantom sensation of Lilith’s cold body in his arms. More than worth not being forced to relive watching horror dawn, naked and raw, on his younger brothers’ faces when they saw what had become of him after his fall. Their disgust, their terror, their pity and sorrow and grief.

Lucifer had hardly wanted to experience any of that the first time-- so why would he ever willingly subject himself to it all again?

Stubborn to a fault he might very well be, but stupid he most certainly is _not_. He refuses to be laid so low by his own subconscious, and if that means sleeping in fits and bursts for the rest of his assumedly eternal life, then so be it.

With a final, frustrated sigh, Lucifer throws his coat over his shoulders and leaves his office. His steps fall softer than his mood would like, but there is little he would hate more than to rouse any of his assumedly sleeping siblings from their own slumber with his insomnia.

His family’s new estate is nothing like their home in the celestial realm. It was a picture of beauty, all high arches and clean white walls and sprawling gardens, filled with the odds and ends that long lives tend to accumulate.

Their residence now is comparatively empty, impersonally decorated in the characteristic dark and rich colors of Devildom nobility. It is fitting in the sense that that is exactly what they are, and ill-fitting in literally every other way possible. Lucifer knows that Diavolo had done his best to make them feel.. Well… _At home_ , but it was more or less a wasted effort. Lucifer doubts that this place will never truly feel like home to them, not without--

Lucifer pauses in the hall, his fingertips just barely grazing the wall. He sighs slowly, shakes his head. 

Not… without time.

~~He very much does not think of the secret room he’d had made before his family had officially moved in. He does _not_ think of it in great, painful detail. He doesn’t. He can’t.~~

The garden at this time of night--morning? Ugh--is not much of a vision, even in the faint moonlight. The indistinct shapes of the shrubbery and the fearsome, devilish forms of the statues don’t do much to add to a sense of peace or tranquility, but the air is crisp and clean, which Lucifer supposes is pleasant enough for his purposes.

He settles himself onto a stone bench and tilts his head back to study the stars.

Lucifer breathes in, slowly.

The stars shine in distant coldness down back at him, indifferent, mocking. He had once been the crown jewel amongst them, and now here sits-- with a sore neck and aching eyes and a heart that he refuses to acknowledge the weight of. Truly, how the mighty have fallen. Lucifer’s lips quirk of their own accord into a sardonic, rueful little smile.

A shooting star streaks its way over the bowl of the sky-- a brilliant, brief flash of debris burning up in the Devildom’s atmosphere.

 _Is that what I looked like_ , Lucifer wonders idly. _A speck of light as I fell, and then… nothing?_

Time passes as slowly as the night blooming flowers slowly unfurl, and Lucifer’s eyes grow heavy. He closes them and promises himself he’ll retire to his rooms properly soon, just a minute more.

Just a moment more of the silence, in the quiet peace of the near dawn.


	2. 2. to tear/pull away/loose/out/from/down/up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Have some Mammon POV c:

Mammon stares uncomprehendingly at the unlit switch on the coffee pot. He lifts the top and tries to puzzle out why yesterday’s grounds are still in the basket.

His tired just-woke-up brain isn’t really up to figuring out why there isn’t fresh coffee waiting for him yet. Lucifer _always_ …

Mammon blinks. Oh-- come to think of it, he hadn’t seen Lucifer on his way into the kitchen. Odd. Lucifer’s usually at the table by now, sipping his coffee and looking over everything in sight with his unique air of vague disapproval.

Mammon walks back around to the dining room to be sure. And...

Nope. The head of the table is empty, no Lucifer in sight. The chair is perfectly in place and devoid of his older brother. Mammons scratches his cheek, thoughtful. This could mean a couple of things for him-- some good, some bad. But it’s fine, it’s chill. It’s definitely one of the good things, right? He’s Greed incarnate now, got luck running through his veins like it’s nothing.

Right? Right. Yeah. So-- to go over it...

The first, best, and most likely thing that could have happened is that Lucifer could just have passed out in his office again. Which is prime real estate for Mammon to swoop on in and maybe snap a good picture of the Mighty First Born all sleep rumpled and grumpy. Then Lucifer will do some yelling--which he’s gotten… frighteningly good at since their time in their devildom. Did he ever yell so much before?--and threatening, probably noogie him something fierce, then demand his coffee in that imperious way of his. Then if they’re lucky it’ll be Satan’s or Levi’s turn to make breakfast, and they’ll all sit down, one big happy _totally complete and fine_ family.

The Second most likely thing is… Well…. He _could_ just be asleep in his room, Mammon supposes. But that’s unlike him, sleeping in. It’s more likely he’s passed out trying to make all of his work perfect in his office than him taking any leisure time in his bedroom. It might mean that Lucifer’s coming down with something, though, which isn’t stellar except for the fact that if Lucifer is busy being sick, he’s not busy dogging Mammon’s every step. 

The thought is enough to make Mammon frown. Lucifer used to _trust_ him, and now he can’t go more than a few hours with being ‘checked up on’. So what if he went to the human world for a night out? He’s a demon now, meant to spread sin and be horrible or whatever. He was just following his nature. 

“Morning,” Mammon jumps about a foot into the air, hand over his heart--and if he makes another one of those _embarrassing_ demonic corvid squawks because of it, no one needs to mention it--and whirls around. Beel, who seems to have suddenly materialized behind Mammon when he wasn’t looking, blinks slow and sleepy at him. “...You alright, Mammon?” 

“HA--ahh, Yeah, I’m.. Yeah I’m great! You just got me really good there--sneaking up on me like that.” Mammon wheezes out a laugh that he’s sure isn’t convincing to _anyone_ , but Beel has always been the most socially forgiving of his younger siblings. That is, not including--

“Sorry,” Beel mumbles, yawns, then peers around the kitchen. Not unusual behavior for him these days, but the mild look of befuddlement is different. 

“...Is Lucifer still asleep? Also, who’s cooking today?” Beel settles himself against the countertop, one arm already reaching up to snag a box of cereal out of the cupboards. Pre-Breakfast snacking, as it were. 

Mammon busies himself with making a new pot of coffee. Lucifer will probably appreciate it, once he wakes up. “Eh, I don’t remember. S’not me, though. Maybe Satan?” The old coffee grounds get thrown into the trash, the basket rinsed, a new filter placed inside.

The sound of Beel munching his way through the box of cereal accompanies Mammon through measuring out the coffee grounds and getting everything into place. He can feel Beel’s eyes on him, the thoughtful weight of it.

“Lucifer always eats breakfast with us.” Beel’s barely intelligible around his mouthful of food, and Mammon has half a mind to scold Beel about it. He lets it drop though--if Lucifer’s repeated reminders don’t make a dent, then what will him saying anything do? Not much, is what. “He said it’s important for us all to eat together at least once a day.”

Mammon sets the coffee to brew. What luck was he thinking about having earlier? Seriously. Of course it’s _this morning_ that Beel feels like being mulish and chatty all at once. 

Although, being honest, Mammon isn’t sure exactly _why_ he’s so... Nervous about this whole situation. Lucifer’s just not up bright and early this morning, big whoop.

It definitely doesn’t bring to mind the countless mornings after Lucifer’s fall that Mammon spent with their siblings, barely holding them all together while they mourned. Nope. Totally doesn’t ring any bells or remind him of any past traumas that for sure don’t involve losing his big brother, who, you know, incidentally raised him and all that.

Mammon’s totally fine. Everything’s chill. Yep.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Mammon forces every shred of doubt from his tone until he sounds so brazenly sure of himself, he can barely stand it. Half on his tiptoes, Mammon sets about pulling out everyone’s favorite mugs. “He’s Lucifer, y’know?”

Beel hums a noncommittal sound around his cereal, but at least he seems to accept that and finally lets the conversation drop. The element in the coffee maker grumbles to life, followed shortly by the first few plaintive drips of coffee hitting the bottom of the pot. The rich scent suffuses the air, Beel mows his way through another couple boxes of cereal, and their family, one by one, trickles into the kitchen and dining room.

Levi shoos Beel and Mammon out of the kitchen once he’s caffeinated enough to care. “It’s my turn to cook-- get out of here! I need space to work!”

Mammon rolls his eyes, sure he does. More like Levi just doesn’t want eyes on him while he fusses about. Beel whines something about hurrying, he’s really _hungry_ though, but ultimately is also summarily booted from the kitchen and banished to the dining room.

Lucifer’s seat at the head of the table remains empty.

Breakfast carries on regardless. 

Belphie even manages to drag himself out of bed in time to eat, which puts Beel in decidedly high spirits despite the truly _sour_ mood the ‘seventh born’ is in. The look he’s been giving his eggs while he pushes them around his plate is nasty enough to curdle milk, but apparently not strong enough to deter Beel from poaching bits of food from his plate. Mammon doesn’t want to ask, and in fact knows _better_ than to ask, but if _he_ doesn’t then someone else might stick their foot in their mouth trying to. Ugh.

Being the second oldest sure _sucks_ sometimes.

Mammon takes a sip of coffee--for fortitude--and clears his throat. “So, Belphie, little bro…”

Belphegor acknowledges him with an extraordinarily _scathing_ glare and the quirk of an eyebrow. Jeeze--even more than Satan sometimes, Belphie really does take after Lucifer. Not that he’d ever dare say anything about that out loud. Ever since… Well, their new situation sort of happened, Belphegor has been… Testy, to say the least. 

Considering he’s maybe been awake for approximately a third of the time since they’d relocated and received their new positions, Mammon can sympathize. Belphie’s had a lot more to process with everything that’s gone on, and in less time, too. 

~~Mammon can’t imagine having seen what Belphie, Beel, and Lucifer did. Watching their little sister _die_ like that, it’s too horrible to contemplate.~~

Off to one side, he can hear Asmo and Satan’s conversation start to peter off as they tune in to the newest curiosity. Great. 

“Just, uh, wondering… How’re you holding up, bud? You look a little…” Mammon grimaces a little and makes a shaky so-so gesture with his hand. “...Y’know?”

The breakfast table falls so goddamn quiet that Mammon swears he can hear Beel’s stomach digesting. Which, frankly, ew--but it does highlight the fact that combined with the suddenly heavy aura gathering around Belphegor, it seems as though Mammon has managed to shove his entire foot not just into his mouth, but down his throat.

The smile that Belphegor gives Mammon is so frigid that he swears he can feel a layer of frost forming on top of his skin. _Yikes_. 

“How am I holding up? Why are you asking _me_ that, when _Lucifer_ can’t even be bothered to show up to the stupid _family-bonding breakfast_ that **_he_ ** insists on?” The vague shape of horns start to materialize on either side of Belphie’s head, the hazy corona of nearly-shapeshifting telling his mood despite the saccharine tone he’s using.

Mammon cringes, brings up his hands in what he hopes is a placating gesture. Belphegor used to be one of their easiest siblings to deal with-- and now--

“Hey, c’mon now,” He laughs but it’s a nervous thing, and he hates it, the way anxious wings beat inside of his chest like something trying to fight its way out. “No need to be so hostile, right? We’re all family here.”

That seems to be possibly the worst thing he could have followed up with if the way Belphegor’s smile seems to get horrifyingly more pleasant. Great job Mammon, you’re the best at this, Mammon! Ugh. I mean, it’s not like Lucifer is any better now at talking to their family--it’s like he’s getting progressively worse? Mammon isn’t sure how that’s really possible considering Lucifer has never really been the best when it comes to ~talking about your Feelings~…--but at least if Lucifer were here, Belphie wouldn’t be pissed off about him skipping out on breakfast.

Belphegor snorts and leans forward--head first, in the new way he does when he’s picking a fight--but before he can say anything more, Beel drops a heavy hand on Belphegor’s shoulder, expression knotted up like someone’s just told him they’ve run out of food again.

“Belphie…” 

The twins lock eyes for one long moment, and whether they’re actually engaging in their weird telepathy or just able to read each other that well, Mammon can’t say. What Mammon _can_ say is that after a beat or two longer Belphegor relents, flopping back against the backrest of his chair. He pointedly doesn’t look at Mammon when he yawns.

“Well, that was exhausting. Beel, can you--” Belphie cuts himself off again with another yawn, his eyes starting to go heavy in a way that suggests he’s about to pass out. Beel makes a soft sound of concern and manages to catch his twin before Belphie nods off straight into the table. Again.

Beel sighs and hoists Belphie up out of the chair and into his arms, and casts a look of such deep longing at his breakfast that it wouldn’t be out of place if he were face to face with a long lost lover instead. “Don’t touch my food.” Is all he says before readjusting Belphie and carrying him off to their room.

Asmo sighs from his end of the table, cheek in hand and looking awfully put out. “How boring! I was hoping they’d start fighting,” He pushes some food around on his plate, working himself into a full on pout. Asmo blinks and then turns to Satan, brightening. “Hey, maybe while Beel’s gone we should--” Mammon frowns, about to shut things down before they escalate--Asmodeus hadn’t ever been so flippant before, had he?--but Leviathan, surprisingly, gets there first. “No way!” Levi points his fork in Asmo’s direction, eyes wide and maybe bordering a touch on furiously anxious. “Absolutely no way!! I’m using my older brother card right now. The last time someone messed with Beel’s food, he ate my favorite chair! He almost ate me too--but Lucifer…” 

Levi pauses, worrying at his bottom lip in the same way he's done since he was just a fledgling. It makes him look young and uncertain. Mammon can sympathize. “...Speaking of Lucifer… Has anyone actually seen him?”

Quiet falls on the breakfast table once more. 

Mammon clears his throat-- time to step in again. “I’m sure it’s fine, he’s probably just asleep in his office or something.” He waves a dismissive hand. “But if you’re so worried about it, I’ll go and check on him after we eat, okay?”

There’s some grumbling but the miniature almost-crisis is temporarily diverted for now. Mammon gives himself a mental pat on the back. Everything is going to be just fine.

Breakfast concludes shortly after that-- everyone scrapes their leftovers onto Beel’s plate and then files out to start their day properly. Mammon himself has some revenue reports to look over, but he figures they can wait just long enough for him to make good on his promise and see if Lucifer isn’t asleep at his desk.

It’s kind of nostalgic, really. Almost like nothing’s changed at all.

Except that everything has, but beside that… It’s basically the same.

Mammon recites the password to Lucifer’s office door and doesn’t bother knocking-- he wants to see if he can’t catch Lucifer sleeping, after all. He has his instant-portrait taking application up on his DDD, ready to get that picture of his big brother all discombobulated, and is met with Lucifer’s empty office.

Mammon blinks slow and thoughtful, head tilting to one side and he stomps down the rising nerves in his chest. It’s fine--it’s fine! Just because Lucifer isn’t in his office doesn’t mean he’s in trouble. 

~~~~

~~It doesn’t mean that Lucifer is hurt, bleeding out on the battlefield, all alone and refusing help from his newfound excess of pride.~~

So as one does, Mammon changes courses and walks, super calm--he doesn’t run, okay! He’s just walking a little fast is all!--to Lucifer’s bedroom. This time he knocks, all thoughts of selling that photograph of sleeping Lucifer to the masses swept clean from his head. 

“Hey, uh, Lucifer? You alright in there? You missed breakfast, so I said I’d check on you, and if you’re not in there I don’t know what I’m gonna do. Okay? So please be in there, alright?”

Mammon swings the door open.

Lucifer isn’t there.

Oh, _fuck_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, you can find me at [canonlucidia](http://www.canonlucidia.tumblr.com) on tumblr.


End file.
